Making Mistakes
by Embolalia
Summary: Chapter 7: Shalom. Ziva finally faces her father. *Follows Making Exceptions and Making Rules*
1. Getting through the Day

To past readers, welcome back! If you haven't read my work before, this is the third piece in a series, following _Making Exceptions _and _Making Rules_. Together these are a TIVA epic beginning just after Jet Lag. Check out the earlier pieces, then come back!

I know a lot of you were upset at the ending of _Making Rules_, but don't worry, I wouldn't have written nearly 35,000 words if I didn't like these characters and want the best for them...eventually. Would it help if I told you that at the end of my couple pages of notes on where this is going it says "Making Up? Making Out?" as possible titles for future chapters? That said, it's going to be a little while before things are lovey-dovey again. Certainly not in this chapter, since it establishes the state of things. But while this may be fiction, it isn't fantasy.

* * *

**Making Mistakes**

We learn wisdom from failure much more than from success. We often discover what will do by finding out what will not do; and probably he who never made a mistake never made a discovery.

Samuel Smiles (1816–1904)

_Self-Help_

* * *

Ziva woke with a sob, kicking out, panicking as her legs, tangled in the sheets, suddenly seemed restrained. She jerked free and lay still, gasping. The dream lingered in her mind, scattered images that slipped away even as they flickered before her eyes. Men she knew were dead tying her up, holding her down. Tony bleeding on the ground but also standing over her with a gun.

She blinked rapidly, rushing the nightmare on its way. But as she sat up, it hit her. He was gone. Ziva took a deep breath and slowly let it out. The ache hadn't faded, but she was done crying. She glanced at the clock. She had time to get a run in before work.

*

Tony got to work late. He'd had more than a few too many last night, and even now he knew his breath was stale and his head was sore.

The others were already at their desks. Gibbs raised an eyebrow at his lateness but no one commented on it. As he turned past her desk, there she was, looking more severe than usual in simple black and a tight braid. She didn't look up at him.

Tony glanced around, wondering how they'd break this to the team. He watched as Gibbs gave him a once-over, frowned, and raised an eyebrow. Tony nodded once. Gibbs winced thoughtfully, then got back to work.

And so things seemed to go on as usual.

*

By noon they hadn't caught a case, so they were allowed to take their lawful lunch break for once. Tony slunk down to the lab when Ziva and McGee began to get the group order together. He propped himself moodily against Abby's lab bench and sighed.

"Oh, Tony!" Abby cried, catching sight of him from ballistics and rushing in to give him a hug.

"Oh, Abby?" he asked tentatively, hugging back. It felt good to hug her, but not just right.

"Tim told me," she said gently.

"Told you what?" Tony asked agitatedly. Were they that easy to read?

"That something really wrong was up with you and Ziva. Or is it not? Because I tried to tell him it might just be a front to cover up the fact that you got secretly married or something really wonderful--"

"No." Tony cut her off. "We split up."

"Oh, Tony!" She launched herself against him again.

He hugged her back gratefully until she pulled away.

"How's Ziva?" Abby asked worriedly.

Tony snorted. "Back to normal. She and McGee were laughing over take-out menus when I left."

Abby gave him a derisive look. "She's faking, then."

His eyes dropped. "Abby...we've only ever known her as well as she let us. Back when she first got here—Ziva can be hard and ruthless when she has to be."

"No." Abby shook her head so firmly that Tony looked up at the sound of her pigtails hitting her shoulders. "Tony, we know her better than anyone. Especially you. And we know that she's a great actress as long as she doesn't tried to be a nerd."

He didn't smile at the joke.

Abby cocked her head. "You cover everything up, Tony. _Everything_. Can't you see that's what she's doing?"

Tony shrugged. "Maybe."

She threw up her hands. "I have work to do, DiNozzo. You can't hide down here and not listen to what I'm saying."

He nodded, sighing. Leaning forward, he pecked her on the cheek. "Thanks for the hug, Abs." He headed back to the elevator.

*

They still had half an hour for lunch, so Tony didn't head straight to the bullpen. Instead he took the elevator up to the catwalk outside MTAC and made his way to a corner where he could watch the desks below inconspicuously. There was McGee, eating his Chinese food and staring at something on his computer screen. There was Ziva, breaking a fortune cookie into smaller and smaller pieces. Then McGee looked over at her, seemed to say something. Ziva jumped.

For a moment, Tony didn't process what he'd seen. _Ziva jumped. _Plus she'd taken a fortune cookie, and she never took fortune cookies. He was gratified, but only for an instant. It had hurt when she seemed not to care, but if she did, everything was worse. If she did, then she was in pain and it was his fault, and he'd broken a rule he'd made for himself a long time ago.

"Got a case I don't know about, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, coming out of MTAC to lean against the railing next to Tony.

He shook his head mutely. There was nothing to do but say it. "We broke up. It was my fault." He could feel Gibbs' eyes on him but didn't turn.

"It's been my fault plenty of times," Gibbs said mildly. "Would it do any good to tell you to fix it?"

Now Tony looked over. "I would if I could."

Gibbs studied him, then nodded. "Don't give up."

*

Her coat and purse in hand, Abby walked determinedly into the bullpen as she saw the boys head for the elevator. She stopped in front of Ziva's desk. The other woman was already pulling on her coat. "Would you like to get a drink?" she asked brightly.

Ziva hesitated, then shook her head. "No thank-you, Abby."

Abby paused. "Tony told me. If you need a shoulder to cry on..."

With a flinch, Ziva straightened. "I have survived far worse than Tony," she said firmly. "I appreciate the offer, but I do not require your shoulder."

"But you were so happy!" Abby protested.

Ziva's eyes fell but the rest of her facade remained resolute. "No thank-you, Abby." She gathered her things and left.

Abby watched her go.

"Can't force it, Abbs," Gibbs said gently behind her.

She whirled. "They deserve to live happily ever after! He saved her life and they fell in love--"

Gibbs cut her off with an irritated shake of his head. "Life isn't a fairy tale. Maybe they'll work it out and maybe they won't."

She glared childishly. "Maybe they will." She turned her back defiantly to watch Ziva reach the elevator.

Gibbs sighed behind her. "I hope so too," he murmured.

* * *

_Next time:_

Ziva pressed her code in to play the voice-mail. A familiar voice rang out. "Hey, Ziva, it's Damon. I'm in town to pick up the last of my things and I've got a job lined up in Iowa so tell me when I can take you for that dinner I owe you. Call me." As he stopped speaking, the electronic recording began to give her options, but Ziva wasn't paying attention.


	2. Quantum of Solace

**Making Mistakes**

The rating has risen quickly to a T. And maybe a high T, but no one gets naked, so I don't think it warrants M. Did I just give too much away? Also I've never written McGee before, believe it or not, except in passing glimpses. So if it's not quite working let me know how.

I came up with the chapter title in the middle of posting this. I think it is the stupidest title ever for a Bond movie, but it actually fits this chapter. And Tony would like it.

* * *

Ziva sighed as she walked into her apartment and set her things down. She rolled her eyes as she crossed the living-room; there on the charger was the cell-phone she'd been insisting all day was mixed up somewhere in a bag of evidence or in the back of the car. She sank into the couch. Three days after the break-up, all she wanted was to crawl into a hole where she wouldn't have to see Tony DiNozzo every three seconds anymore. Of course, if she did she'd probably find him inside, brushing up against her accidentally and reminding her of all the comfort and pleasure she was missing.

She reached for the phone and frowned at the voice-mail alert the screen displayed. Ziva pressed her code in to play the voice-mail. A familiar voice rang out. "Hey, Ziva, it's Damon. I'm in town to pick up the last of my things and I've got a job lined up in Iowa so tell me when I can take you for that dinner I owe you. Call me." As he stopped speaking, the electronic recording began to give her options, but Ziva wasn't paying attention.

She stared down at the phone for a long moment before turning off her voice-mail and finding his name in the call history.

"Hello?" Damon answered at once.

"Hi," Ziva said nervously.

"Ziva!" his voice was warm. "I'm glad you called. I'm only here one more night, but I got all my business taken care of for the move. Are you up for dinner?"

She smiled faintly at the enthusiasm in his voice. It was perhaps the first time in three days that she'd felt like smiling. "Sure," Ziva said firmly. "What's the plan?"

He named a restaurant and promised to pick her up in an hour, and Ziva hung up, rushing toward her room. She showered quickly and looked for a dress to wear. She'd stayed pretty casual last time, because things were getting more serious with Tony and she didn't want to give Damon the wrong idea. But this time she was single and lonely and he was leaving tomorrow. Something silky and black would do nicely.

*

Across town, Tony slid onto the bar stool beside McGee with a disconsolate sigh. McGee glanced over at him imperturbably. But when he saw the weariness in Tony's face, McGee frowned in concern.

"How's it going?" he tried lightly.

"Depends what we're drinking, Probie," Tony tossed back.

McGee rolled his eyes and signaled to the bartender for another beer. Then he rested his head on his hand and watched Tony, who was staring up at scores flashing across a television with a level of enthusiasm he usually reserved for old evidence logs. "You know," McGee offered, "I remember when I broke up with Abby."

Tony turned to him in surprise, and a spark of his usual self hiding in his eyes. "You never talk about it."

His partner shrugged. "I figure you're probably too screwed up to use it against me in the next five minutes. Or not screwed up enough?"

"What happened?" Tony asked.

McGee winced. "What always seems to happen. We weren't in the same place. I wanted more from her than she wanted from me. At first it didn't matter, or maybe we didn't realize it, but in the end...we were probably doomed."

Tony accepted his beer from the bartender and took a long swallow. "Was it worth it, do you think?" he asked softly.

McGee's mouth opened in startlement. He'd expected Tony's questions to be more about the bedroom. Then he nodded. "Of course."

Taking another gulp, Tony waited intently for an explanation.

"I mean...I got to know her. In the way that you let someone get to know you when you like them. Better than I would have if we'd only just been friends."

Tony sighed. "See family pictures, smell her shampoo."

"Something like that."

"But you got over it." Tony stared down into his drink.

McGee shrugged. "It took a while. At least we didn't work together every minute, but those couple months of the summer right afterward...yeah, it was a little uncomfortable to go down to the lab and remember--" McGee cut himself off before he admitted to something that Abby would probably prefer kept a secret.

"Remember what?" Tony asked, grinning.

McGee drank his beer. "Oh, you know. Just Abby."

"Coffin sex?"

He nearly choked as he swallowed. "I'm not describing it for you, Tony."

Tony laughed, and McGee felt something inside him ease. After all the summer months of monitoring Tony, he was still somehow attuned to his partner's dark spells, still worried automatically about what Tony might do if he decided again that he had nothing worth living for.

"It's hard to see her everyday," Tony said softly, to McGee's surprise. "But I'm the one who ended things. It's not that I'm uncomfortable so much as...if she is, it's my fault. And if I could just get around things, we'd be together."

McGee frowned. "What things?"

*

With a nod to Ziva, Damon accepted the check at the end of dinner.

She smiled back. He'd been a perfect gentleman, but he also hadn't taken his eyes off her since he'd picked her up. Ziva took one last bite of her cake as Damon got out his credit card. Her smile faded while he looked away. She wasn't quite certain what she was doing. She wasn't being herself, exactly—if Tony were here she would have been laughing more genuinely, answering more thoughtfully. But she was being a version of herself, one she knew well how to put on: charming Ziva, flirty Ziva. She hadn't tried it on since the first days with Michael, but it certainly seemed to be working on Damon. And it was good to be someone else for a few minutes.

He glanced up at her and Ziva smiled again. "Thank you for dinner," she said graciously.

"Thank you for joining me," Damon answered with charm. He looked down at the table. "Even if you're done, I'm sure we could still sit and finish the bottle of wine," he offered, clearly trying to extend the evening.

Ziva studied him enigmatically, then reached out and poured the rest of the wine into her glass and drank it quickly down. "Or we could go somewhere else," she said, staring straight into his eyes. She saw the question there. "Tony and I are no longer together," she said casually, dismissively.

Damon grinned. "The hotel where I'm staying is just around the corner from here."

*

McGee gestured for another round, then glanced at Tony out of the corner of his eye. Four beers and some wings in, his partner was barely seemed tipsy, a signal that Tony's drinking habits were up again. His own four beers had him stumbling every time he got up to pee.

"You're staring, McDrinky," Tony accused.

Rolling his eyes, McGee turned to face him. "You know, when she was gone, I was your best friend."

Tony turned to him, his face a mask of surprise. "I...I didn't mean to..." he sputtered.

McGee waved it off. "I'm not complaining, Tony. Don't get me wrong, I prefer Ziva alive to being your best friend." He caught Tony's wince. "But I saw what you went through for her. She was an assassin then, too. Maybe more than she is now. And you loved her so much that I got to wake up on the dirt floor of a cell somewhere in Africa."

"McGee," Tony began softly, then stopped. He had no argument. "I never meant to put you in danger. I wasn't," he snorted, "wasn't thinking very clearly."

"We all wanted to go," McGee said firmly. "But we all knew she was dead. Without you, I doubt we'd have gone all the way there to take out her killer."

Tony nodded, downing a shot he'd ordered during McGee's last bathroom break. "Yeah."

*

At first it was alright. They'd held hands on the way back and it didn't feel right but pretending felt like enough. And then they were in the dim, warm room and Damon was kissing her and she was kissing him back and the wine was making her dizzy and it was enough.

Then Damon dipped down to kiss her neck and he found the spot that Tony loved and Ziva felt such guilt sweep through her that she gasped in shock at what she was doing. Whether Tony wanted her or not, she felt like his. She felt like 'Be Faithful' still meant to Tony. Damon's kiss swept up her chin and back to her lips and Ziva tried to dismiss the sudden emotion. Tony didn't want her. Damon did.

It all fell apart in a moment. They had made it to the couch and his shirt and her dress had come off; Damon had begun lazily kissing his way down her torso. Ziva was starting to give in to the alcohol and the sensation of his stubble grazing over her belly as he turned his head to kiss her hip when suddenly Damon slid up and sank down on top of her. As Ziva's eyes opened wide he was just a silhouette above her, his hands squeezing her hips too tightly. She had been pinned like this so many times. A wordless cry slipped her lips.

He didn't understand, pulled her even tighter as he lowered his head to kiss her.

Ziva butted his head with hers and Damon reared back.

"Careful there!" he burst out, half-laughing to show he was uninjured, only to gape in confusion as Ziva darted away from him and into the bathroom.

Damon sat bewildered for a full minute. When he heard the shower start to run, he hesitantly got up off the couch and knocked on the door. "Ziva?" he called loudly. He heard a gasp—of fright?--but no other response. He knocked again.

After ten minutes of pounding and shouting, Damon had grown completely sober and deeply worried. So he did the only thing he could think of. He called Gibbs.

*

Tony frowned down at his cellphone. Finally he found the button he wanted. "McGee?" he moaned.

"Tony!" McGee exclaimed. "What happened to you? I went to the bathroom and when I came out you were gone."

"Oh." Tony frowned. "Thought you left. Ziva's not answering her door."

There was a long pause.

"When I said 'Don't give up on her' I didn't mean 'Show up drunk at her apartment,'" McGee said slowly.

"She's not here," Tony tried to explain.

McGee sighed. "Maybe she's just not answering."

"Ziva!" Tony's fist pounding on the door was audible even to McGee. "Nope. She'd at least come out and tell me to be quiet because the neighbors are sleeping."

"Well, I don't know what to tell you. Except that you should probably go home and sleep it off, Tony. There'll be a good explanation in the morning. If you even remember this." McGee hung up.

Tony knocked one more time, then dialed Gibbs. His phone rang and rang. The man hadn't even set his voice-mail up. Finally Tony pocketed his phone and headed down the stairs.

Outside he was lucky enough to hail a cab, but when he opened his mouth to give an address, he paused. Sure 'No Gibbs' was a rule, but Tony knew he was the one she turned to. If she wasn't here, she'd be with him. He told the cab driver where to go.


	3. Void and Prohibited

**Making Mistakes**

Um...I may be rushing through this a bit because I want to get to the chapters about Mother's Day. But I'm really excited to write them! And I love you all for reviewing!

**___________________________________________________________________________________  
**

Damon looked immensely relieved as he opened the door for Gibbs. "She's in the bathroom," he said softly, indicating with his head. "She won't come out...she won't answer me."

Gibbs took in the scene with narrowing eyes. Ziva's wrap dress was flung across the back of the couch. He picked it up gingerly and walked toward the door Damon had pointed out. He reached to knock, then turned to look at Werth. "Go for a walk," he ordered. "I'll take care of her."

Frowning in concern, Damon started to open his mouth, but he closed it again at Gibbs' commanding glare. "Sure," he said defensively, picking up his jacket and key and heading out.

Gibbs waited until the door was closed behind him before gently trying the knob of the bathroom door. Still locked. "Ziva," he called. "Ziver, it's Gibbs." He heard her move inside the small room.

"Come in," she replied quietly.

He tried the knob again. She had to be really out of it to realize she didn't need to unlock the door. Gibbs' stomach sank but he pulled out his lock-picking tools from his wallet and released the doorknob in a single twist. Gibbs slowly opened the door and looked in.

Ziva was curled in the back of the bathtub, a towel wrapped around her over her underwear. She was completely drenched, including her towel, though the dripping shower-head was no longer running.

Gibbs' heart ached at the reminder of her in his bathtub the night they got her back from Somalia. The look in her eyes seemed terribly familiar. "Ziver," he said softly, crossing to sit on the edge of the tub.

Her eyes met his, still wide and uncertain. "Gibbs," she said softly. Suddenly she started shaking, gasping for breath as she struggled back from the distant place she'd gone inside her mind. She reached up and he took her hand, held onto it hard until she calmed. Then Ziva pulled herself up to sit on the tub ledge beside him, her feet still in the inch of water in the tub.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Gibbs asked gently.

Ziva closed her eyes. "I thought I was better. I thought I could do this."

He shrugged. "You are better. Better than you were."

She looked at him, smiled faintly. Then she winced in shame. "I am sure I scared Damon," Ziva said regretfully.

Gibbs shook his head. "Don't worry about that now. Let's get you dressed and I'll take you home." To his relief, she didn't resist when he pulled her to her feet and handed her a dry towel and her dress. He went out into the room to give her privacy.

When she emerged a few minutes later, Ziva seemed normal except for the wild curling of her damp hair. Gibbs saw her glance around for Werth, but she didn't ask questions. He led the way down to the car and held the door for her, wondering all the while what this would do to her and Tony. On cue his cell-phone vibrated in his pocket, showing him Tony's name and number. Gibbs hit the ignore button and got into the car.

"Thank you for coming," Ziva murmured as he turned the car on.

Gibbs glanced over. "I'd go further." He didn't miss her smile.

Ziva squinched her eyes shut, rested her head back on the headrest. "Tony and I got so comfortable together, I thought...I did not expect this to be so...awful."

"You had a flashback?"

She nodded confirmation. "It felt for a moment like I was still there."

Gibbs glanced over at her as he headed for his house. He didn't want her to be alone. "You and Tony trusted each other," he said firmly. "That's a big part of it." To his surprise, Ziva sighed sharply at his words. "What?"

She shook her head. "Tony does not trust me. He said so. That is why we broke up." Her voice trailed off to a whisper.

Gibbs was seized by a fierce urge to slap his senior agent. "How can he not trust you?" he asked ferociously. He saw Ziva flinch. "Never mind," he said quickly "It'll keep."

They drove on in silence.

*

Tony rested his cheek against the arm of the couch. He still hadn't come up with a good reason why Gibbs and Ziva would both be missing from their homes, but it seemed unlikely that anyone would try to kidnap them, or Gibbs anyway, so he was trying to still the spinning in his head while he waited.

At long last he heard the sound of a key in the door and swung his legs off the couch, rising to his feet. "Gibbs!" Tony proclaimed as his boss entered.

Gibbs stopped short in the doorway, his eyes alarmed.

And then Ziva appeared beside him, her hair soaking wet around her shoulders even though it wasn't raining, her shoulders hunched and her eyes downcast.

"Ziva," Tony whispered, agonized.

Her eyes leapt to his, and the brokenness in her face and posture was briefly erased by an instinctive joy and relief at his presence.

Without stopping to think, Tony opened his arms and let her rush into them, held her close as the pressure and scent of her body reassured him that she was alright. After a long moment he pulled back to look her over and their eyes met. At once they remembered everything, and the wall of silence slammed down between them again.

"Ziva, why don't you go upstairs and run a bath," Gibbs said firmly. "You know where to find something to wear once you're warmed up."

She nodded, obeying without question and heading upstairs.

Tony watched her go.

"What are you doing here, DiNozzo?" Gibbs growled.

He turned back to his boss in surprise, then thought back. "I went out with McGee and he was reminding me of how much I love her and I went to her house but she was gone so I came here..." Tony trailed off. "If you're going to have a lock, you shouldn't leave the key under the nearest flower pot," he pointed out.

Gibbs glared at him. "It won't be there anymore," he promised harshly.

Tony frowned. "Where were you?" he finally asked. "What happened to her?"

He hesitated. "She was...out. She had a flashback and needed help," Gibbs said carefully.

Eyes filled with regret, Tony sank down to the couch. "She should have called me," he said mournfully.

Gibbs glared at him. "You shouldn't have done this to her!" he snapped.

"Me!" Tony protested. "It's not my fault she has PTSD!"

Shaking his head, Gibbs stood over him. "She was with Damon Werth. Wanted to be with someone who wouldn't reject her."

Tony's eyes blazed as he realized what kind of situation would have triggered an attack. "But how could she--"

Gibbs shook his head in the face of Tony's response. "She put herself in a bad situation because she was in pain. And that was because of you. You don't get to judge her for this!"

His anger fading, Tony dropped his eyes to his lap. "I know."

"Go home, DiNozzo," Gibbs said shortly.

Tony looked up pitifully. "Can I talk to her first?"

Gibbs studied him warily. "Only if she wants to talk to you." He waited for Tony's nod, then headed up the stairs. "Wait there," he called over his shoulder.

*

So Tony waited. Every thirty seconds he would begin to imagine Damon kissing Ziva, his Ziva, would begin to be outraged. But then he'd remember the look in her eyes. If she'd been moving on, he'd have been crushed, angry. Right now he was only worried.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs finally snarled down the stairs. "Up here."

Tony climbed the steps, reaching Gibbs at the top.

"There." Gibbs jerked his head, the look in his eyes a warning.

"Okay." Tony turned to watch Gibbs head down to the living room, then slowly crossed the hall and tapped on the door. "Ziva?"

"Yes," she said softly.

He opened the door. Ziva was curled up on the bed in a faded NCIS t-shirt and sweatpants. The clothes were far to big for her and made her look even smaller than she was. Tony stared at her a moment. He still hadn't figured out what to say. Everything he'd rehearsed on his way to her apartment had fled his mind. "The rules don't matter any more, do they?" he finally asked, his tone caught between regret and irritation.

Ziva's eyes widened. Her jaw clenched tightly against her response. Then her eyes fell and she spoke honestly. "Tony, I wanted you...but you do not want me. Does that not void the rules?"

He was silent a moment. "I guess so," he finally whispered.

Her eyes darted up to his, heartbreak lurking behind them. "Then I get to do what I want, Tony. And so do you. And we should find other people to rely on."

Tony nodded mutely. Her voice was adamant, her point valid. But her eyes, like always, told a different story. Told him that the best moment of her day had been hugging him before, that if he changed his mind now it wouldn't be too late. And curled up in Gibbs' clothes, she didn't look like an assassin. She didn't even look like an agent. She looked like the fragile, hopeless woman he and McGee had rescued all those months ago. Tony rubbed a hand over his eyes. His head was still spinning and he wasn't sure he could figure this out even if he were sober.

He finally spoke. "I'll leave you with Gibbs, then. As long as you'll be alright."

Ziva nodded firmly.

Tony turned and headed out, back down the stairs in a rush. He could hear Gibbs in the kitchen but didn't call a goodbye as he headed for the door.

Halfway down the front steps to the driveway, Tony heard the door of the house open behind him.

"Tony!" Ziva shouted out into the cold night air.

He turned, lifting his face toward the light.

"Why did you come over here?" she asked, the confusion on her face masked in shadow.

"You weren't at home," Tony answered simply.

Her mouth dropped open a minute. "Why were you at my home?"

Tony took a deep breath. "I'll tell you when we're both feeling better," he called finally.

Ziva nodded hesitantly. "Good night," she said slowly.

"Good night," Tony answered, then watched as she closed the door.


	4. One Wonderful Sunday

**Making Mistakes**

To respond to some of your comments: I know Tony has seemed less mature to some of you in the recent chapters than in the earlier ones. And that wasn't exactly my intention, but it bothered me in the earlier parts of this story that there was a power disparity between Ziva and Tony—a victim/savior dynamic that didn't work for me for them. So Tony needed to get screwed up a bit. I think when (hint, hint) they get past this they'll be on more equal ground, which will work better for them. Also if they weren't estranged in the story at the beginning of Mother's Day, there wouldn't have been anyway to continue to work this in to the canon. This chapter picks up in the middle of Mother's Day, right after Gibbs orders Tony to take Ziva to Arizona. This won't be the only chapter for this episode.

By the way, I accidentally drove through Rock Creek Park today when I got lost trying to get out of Mt. Pleasant. I've been there before, too, and for the record it really doesn't seem that sketchy!

* * *

Tony braced himself as he walked to the break-room where Ziva had headed a few minutes ago for coffee. It had been a few days but they hadn't talked about Damon. Well, Ziva had tossed out a comment about him dating when he came in excited about the Kurosawa retrospective, but he was pretty sure she'd been kidding.

When he found her, Ziva was making polite but clearly uncomfortable smalltalk with Dolores from Human Resources, but the other woman left quickly when she saw Tony. There was something about crying with joy in front of a relative stranger that made further interaction awkward.

"Hey," Tony said hesitantly.

"Hello," Ziva responded politely, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Gibbs told me to find you and head to Arizona to track down the investigator Joanne hired," he said in a rush. Tony watched as Ziva's eyes widened in alarm.

When she spoke, though, her voice was unaffected. "If only McGee did not get such motion sickness," Ziva said lightl. "Perhaps the next time someone has to fly we could buy him some of those wrist-band things to fight off nausea."

Tony grinned. "Or get him some pot."

Ziva shook her head at him, but Tony didn't miss her smile. "Let's get going," she said in amused irritation.

He followed her back toward their desks.

*

Tony let Ziva drive to Dulles; they had to get there quickly if they were going to make the only direct flight available and whatever his complaints about her driving, he couldn't deny she went fast. They raced through security, not stopping to talk until they were belted into their seats.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

Ziva turned to him. "Yes, Tony?"

He shrugged. "I was remembering our last flight. That pesky girl." Tony smiled. "She had you so wound up about us being together."

"I was not wound!" she protested.

He grinned. "We'd just slept together. You weren't a little wound up?" his eyes darkened and he saw Ziva blush as she caught his double meaning.

Ziva looked away. "This is not the place for a personal conversation, Tony."

Tony watched her thoughtfully. The plane began to take off. "Can we at least talk about Gibbs?" he asked, his thoughts drifting to the other thing consuming his day.

She lifted her head warily. "Does it bother you that he...helped, the other night?"

"No," Tony answered quickly. "It's just...when we got back from the first run-in with Joanne, I saw him in the bathroom." He paused. "It seemed like he was crying."

Ziva frowned in sympathy. "He must have been remembering Shannon and Kelly."

Tony nodded. "I figured." He leaned back in his seat. "It's strange, I can't imagine him with a wife and a kid."

"Well, he's a different person than he would be with them," Ziva pointed out. "We are all changed by the presence or absence of those we are closest to."

Tony raised an eyebrow, wondering exactly how she applied that to herself.

"Don't you think you would be different, if your mother had not died?" she asked.

He snorted. "Absolutely." Tony looked away, pensive. "Though I'm not sure exactly how." He glanced back to her. "What about you, who do you think you would be if your father hadn't been around?" He saw her flinch and realized he'd pushed the conversation further than she'd intended it to go. "Never mind," Tony said quickly.

"It is alright," Ziva said slowly. "It's true, I would probably not have joined Mossad if it were not for him. Though I would still have been in IDF, so it is hard to say." She glanced away. "My mother certainly would not have raised me to see the world the way he did, however."

Tony nodded. "But as far as Gibbs goes, what do you think? Is the case getting to him?"

Ziva shrugged. "It depends what we find in Arizona. If Joanne was simply involved by accident, then it should make no difference to the case. I suppose we will see." She glanced down at her watch and flinched.

He grinned. "It's a long flight, but I brought along a little something to make the time _fly_ by."

Ziva rolled her eyes, then laughed as Tony produced a portable DVD player and two Kurosawa DVDs from his backpack. Right on cue, a flight attendant announced that electronic devices were permitted.

Tony didn't argue when Ziva pulled out her copy of the constitution to read instead of watching his movie. But he grinned when she put it away half an hour later and settled in to watch _Seven Samurai._

*

One corpse and two drives through the desert later, Tony slid into another plane seat. The local LEOs had let them fax their reports and evidence in to Gibbs, so at least he and Ziva could go straight home when they got back to DC. He closed his eyes, but he was still tense. It took a minute to remember why. He turned to his partner. "Why would say you were going in, not we?"

Ziva hesitated. "We are not a we, Tony. It is nice that we are talking more, but..." she trailed off.

"We're still partners," Tony protested.

She shrugged. "I did not mean to offend you with my language, Tony."

He sat back. "Look, I had an appointment with Dr. Harper yesterday." He could feel Ziva tense beside him. "She helped me see that I do want to find a way to get past all this, Ziva." Tony's eyes pleaded, for what neither of them was sure.

Ziva pursed her lips, then a certain light twinkled in her eye as she opened her mouth to respond. "I am not joining the mile high club with you on this flight, Tony."

He laughed, delighted, and saw her eyes fill with answering warmth.

"Which other movies did you bring?" Ziva asked grudgingly.

Tony's eyes lit up. "Have you ever seen _One Wonderful Sunday_?"


	5. Apologize

**Making Mistakes**

Just to clarify, I had to break them so that I could write this chapter. And while I understand your mixed feedback about the last couple chapters (in my defense, I was pretty hungover yesterday) I really hope you like this one! The third section is lifted from my series _Conversations_, about Gibbs and Ziva. Enjoy...

* * *

Tony read Ducky's report.

Then he read it again.

It said that Joanne had been holding the gun, facing the man who had just proposed marriage to her after dating her for some period of time. And then she had shot him. It sent a chill down Tony's spine.

He heard McGee draw a quick breath and glanced toward him. The other agent kept his screen angled too far away for Tony to read what he was working on, but Tony could make out enough to see that it was the same report he'd just been emailed. He stood and crossed to stand behind McGee, resting a hand on the younger man's shoulder as he leaned in to read the salient parts over again.

"It's hard to believe," McGee murmured, glancing back at him.

Tony sighed. "I know I always say suspect the spouse, but I sure didn't suspect the fiance this time."

"What is it?" Ziva asked, eyebrows furrowed, as she approached them from down the hall.

McGee winced. "It's in your email—Ducky's report about the murder. It's pretty clear from the evidence that Joanne has to have done it."

Tony watched as Ziva's eyes widened and her lips parted slightly in surprise.

"Let me see." She walked around the desk and nudged Tony to the side so she could lean in and read over McGee's shoulder.

_I can only conclude that Ms. Fielding shot the victim in the chest,_ Ducky had written towards the end. Tony shook his head in disgust. "He thought she loved him, but that whole time she was setting him up to kill him."

Ziva looked at him warily, and only then did Tony realize how similar the case was to some moment from her past. "Grief can twist people up, Tony," she said slowly. "She is an old woman, and possibly unwell, and she blamed all the pain of her life on the men who took away her family."

Now he bristled. "You're defending her? Maybe you and Allison Hart should team up." Tony caught the warning look in McGee's eyes, but the words were out.

Ziva kept her cool. "I understand what she did but I do not condone it, Tony."

"You've done the same thing, haven't you?" he asked, his eyes hard.

She glared. "I was ordered to! My government said those people were a threat to humanity." Then she looked away. "But if you are asking...I do not think I could do it now."

Tony caught his breath in surprise. It hadn't been what he was asking, but the admission surprised him. He caught McGee's emphatic look of encouragement and rolled his eyes at the other man.

Ziva continued after a moment, turning to him thoughtfully. "We see people who betray those in their family or their team all the time, Tony. Why do you expect more from her than from the rest of the people we bring in?"

He was startled by the question, and answered instinctively. "She's part of Gibbs' family."

Her eyes narrowed."You expect more from those you love, or who you make part of your circle." Ziva stared into his eyes. "Can't we just be people too?"

Tony wasn't sure how to answer, stared back at her. Finally he licked his lips and spoke. "I expect them not to commit crimes. Is that so much to ask?"

She looked away, flinching.

"Not that it's a crime if you were ordered--" McGee tried to explain on his behalf, but the ding of the elevator and the sight of Gibbs and Vance bearing down on their section of the bullpen cut him off. Tony and Ziva rose to their feet behind McGee, ready to offer their support to Gibbs for Joanne's guilt.

*

Tony made it halfway the to theater to see _Rashomon_, relieved that Gibbs had found some way that the evidence made the lieutenant more guilty than Joanne Fielding, before the the weight of the words on loop in his mind become overwhelming. _He's a drug dealer. He deserves to do time_. The more it played, the more it sounded like Gibbs was condoning murder.

Almost without his conscious intent, Tony found himself outside Ziva's apartment. And once he was there he couldn't fight the urge to go in.

At the door he found her unsurprised to see him, her expression laced with the same deep-seated uncertainty he felt.

"Tell me why," Tony begged, the words coming before he'd planned them. She stepped aside, and only then did Tony realize she had her coat on, was headed out.

"Why what?" Ziva asked gently as she locked the door behind him.

Tony turned to face her. "Why did he let her go if she was guilty? She killed someone!" He was yelling but he couldn't help it. "He has to have a good reason," he insisted, pleading.

Ziva's eyes flashed in anger on top of her confusion. "How can you want a reason to forgive Gibbs for killing or letting murder go and not me? How is it different? He was a sniper, an assassin, he killed for vengeance without any license!"

His eyes flared in alarm as Tony realized what they were suddenly really talking about. He forced himself to slow down; when he spoke his voice was fervent but without quiet. "It's different, Ziva. I don't want to sleep next to Gibbs at night. I'm not asking him to raise my children."

Her face froze in surprise. But after a second Ziva dropped the new topic and returned to his question. "I cannot tell you why, Tony," she said slowly. She looked away. "Perhaps I judged you too harshly earlier for expecting...purity...from those you love." She met Tony's eyes. "I cannot stand this either," Ziva said, and Tony could see the conflict radiating out of her. "I was about to go ask him for answers. I have had too many people in my life who believe death is enough justice." She averted her eyes. "I think I love you more because you are not one of them." Ziva's voice dropped to a whisper. "I thought he was not either."

She met Tony's eyes briefly and he saw suddenly that she was as distraught as he was at Gibbs' betrayal of everything he had taught them to believe in. And even as his heart twisted at the reality of Gibbs' decisions, something else in Tony eased. In this situation, so similar to the story behind every name on the list that was still in his pocket, Ziva was on his side. It hurt that Gibbs wasn't, but Ziva was. He took a deep breath for what felt like the first time in days. He nearly smiled, but the hurt in Ziva's eyes wouldn't let him.

"Do you want to come with me to talk to him?" Ziva asked after a moment.

Tony drew himself up in alarm, then slowly shook his head. "No. Not yet, anyway."

Ziva nodded acceptance. She glanced anxiously toward the door, then back to Tony. "Will you wait here for me?" she asked carefully, her eyes suddenly so nervous.

He cringed inside at her expression. "Of course," Tony said softly.

She nodded once, swallowed hard. "I will be back in a little while."

Tony let her out and crossed to the window to watch Ziva drive away.

*

Gibbs was hard at work when Ziva showed up, eagerly fitting the wood of the interior of the boat together after his physical therapy-enforced hiatus. "Was wondering when you'd get here," he said lightly.

She took a seat at the bottom of the stairs, watching him seriously. "You had never mentioned her when you spoke of Shannon."

He shrugged. "When I first knew her, she lived in a town not far from Stillwater." His eyes followed his hands. "I'd lost my mom young. And when I met Shannon, we were still kids. Just eighteen." Gibbs glanced up at Ziva. "Joanne practically raised me too." He turned back to his work. "Those first years, when I was in training and Shan was in college, I'd go there on leave instead of to see Jackson."

Ziva nodded silently.

He frowned, bracing for a difficult admission. "We fell out when I took Shannon and Kelly away from her. Joanne raged at me. But it felt a little like losing my mom again."

She watched him, anguish in her eyes, too caught up in her own emotions to feel sympathy.

Gibbs looked up and mistook her expression. "It's been years, Ziva. At least we got to clear some things up now."

Ziva frowned, then spoke softly. "When I was a little girl, very little, my father was not yet of high rank in Mossad. He was an operative, and until I was six it was his job to locate and eliminate Nazis in hiding in Europe."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows in surprise at the seeming non sequitur. "Ziver?"

"I was raised to believe that vengeful killing was justified, Gibbs. I killed one of the men who was responsible for my sister's death with my bare hands."

He shrugged in tacit approval.

She watched him dolefully as she spoke. "Some people deserved to be murdered. That was the lesson my father taught me. And I learned it. Wholeheartedly." She paused for a moment. "And then he told me to kill my brother. And even when I stood _right here_, looking at his body, I believed that some people simply deserved it. That his actions had earned him death." Ziva looked up imploringly into Gibbs' face. "But _you_ taught me otherwise. _You _made me see that justice can be had in many ways. It took that whole first year, but I finally understood that people can change, that if there is any chance for punishment within the law, lives should not be taken."

Gibbs stared into her face for a long moment, his eyes hardening. "You knew when Franks killed the men who'd brought Amira and her mother here. You didn't want me to arrest him."

She shook her head. "That was different."

"Why?" he demanded, irritable.

Ziva sighed, trying to find the words. "Because since then I have come to understand more of the world. My own death warrant was signed. And the person I was then is gone as surely as if my father had put a bullet between my eyes."

"You think I should arrest Joanne? And then maybe you and I could arrest each other?" His tone was harsh.

She frowned, her lips pursed. "I think that in this country, murder is a crime. I understand exactly what Joanne did, I sympathize. But it was wrong. And I know that you and I are sworn to uphold the laws of this country. Regardless of who breaks them."

"She was my mother!" Gibbs snarled.

"He was my brother!" Ziva snapped back, every muscle in her body tight with suppressed emotion. She took a deep breath. "And I was not asking you to kill her."

Gibbs slumped down beside her on the cold concrete floor, drained of his anger by the memory of Ziva's eyes as she prayed for the brother who had in one moment broken her heart and forced her hand.

Ziva gave a single bark of a laugh. "I really believed that you were the antithesis of my father. His opposite, a man with inflexible morals." Her breath caught. "But you are the same."

Her words stabbed through him. "_Ziver._" He begged for forgiveness with a single word.

She turned to him, her eyes desperately, disappointedly sad.

Gibbs voice grew gruff as he tried to defend himself. "I have a code that says that when people kill the people you love, you avenge them."

Ziva nodded wearily, then winced in self-judgment. "And I should have known that, all this time. You did not spare a moment for months from your search for Ari." She looked away, down at her hands. "After I killed him...I wanted to live in a world where there was forgiveness, where justice took long enough that you could heal your soul from the evil you had done." She whispered her last words: "I thought your world was like that. But I only wanted it to be." Ziva slid off the step, hugging her arms over the coat she had never taken off. She looked down at him as Gibbs began to rise and held up her hand. "Not right now, Gibbs. I—Just don't." Turning, she quietly climbed the steps and let herself out.

*

As Ziva unlocked the door to her apartment, her hands were shaking. She stilled herself, took a deep breath. The door opened in front of her and Tony pulled her inside, his eyes worried as he took in her expression.

"What did he say?"

Ziva walked slowly to the couch and sank down. "He knows that she is guilty, and he does not care. He believes in the same sort of justice as my father." She stared at her hands, tightly clenched around each other in her lap. "All that time in Somalia," she said softly, "I never cried for my father's betrayal. Even after everything, I did not cry because he had taught me that to cry was a weakness. But, Tony..._Gibbs._" A tear rolled down her cheek and then another, and as Tony pulled her tightly against him, he knew exactly what she meant. That in many ways it was worse to be betrayed by Gibbs who was her chosen family than by her father. That the wounds she had been slowly healing had been torn open anew. As Ziva let herself cling to him for a moment, Tony found tears on his own cheeks.

She recovered after a minute and pulled away, her cheeks still damp. She looked up at Tony with imploring eyes. "He had no remorse," she said almost fearfully. "He believes this was right, that Joanne is...justified."

Tony stared down into her naked eyes, then spoke. "It's just like his rule about apologies," Tony said roughly. "Never say you're sorry. Like now. He's gone against everything he's trained us to believe and there's no chance he'll apologize. Like there's no way to make up for what you've done wrong and there's no point trying."

Ziva nodded along.

Certainty rose up inside Tony as he spoke. "It does make you vulnerable. But that's not weakness."

Their eyes met. Ziva's widened as she sensed what was coming.

"I am so completely sorry, Ziva," Tony said intensely. "That I hurt you, that I walked out—but mostly that I thought you were anything like them."

One last tear pooled in her eye and Ziva blinked, suffusing her lashes with moisture. "Thank you, Tony," she said formally.

"Maybe we should make a rule about always apologizing," Tony murmured nervously.

Ziva's eyes leapt to his. Behind her pain there was a sudden hesitant joy.

Tony grinned and kissed her, hard, and for ten delicious seconds they forgot everything else.

Then Ziva pulled back. "Tony," she said slowly.

Tony wove his fingers through her hair. "Can we just take comfort in this now and figure the rest out later?" He was breathless already.

Ziva rested her forehead against his collarbone for a moment. She had no doubt that they would. So she pressed her lips to his throat, then leaned back and and kissed him again.


	6. Heroes and Men

**Making Mistakes**

Wow, that was a completely unintentional hiatus! I tend to write in spurts where I write everyday and then suddenly work/life overtake me and I entirely forget how I ever fit writing into my life for a while. Actually I tried to write this last weekend and then a gorgeous boy at the coffee shop I was sitting in starting talking to me and we basically went on a date right there. Unusual. Anyway now we're on spring break, so hopefully I'll have more time. This chapter is on the short side, but I wanted to get things rolling again. Let me know if you like it, I've missed you all!

**_____________________________________________________________________________________________________  
**

Tony woke slowly. The morning air was cool on his bare chest and he tugged the sheet up from his waist. It was light blue as he pulled it over his head. Tony's eyes snapped open. His sheets were white. Sliding his hand over the bed, he reached for Ziva, but the place beside him was empty.

He sat up. There was no sound from the bathroom. Frowning, Tony searched around for his boxers. They were nowhere to be found, and he decided he'd lost them before they made it to the bedroom. He wrapped the sheet around his waist to stave off the cold of the March morning and opened the door into the living room.

Ziva stood at the window, her back to him.

"Good morning," Tony said softly, snatching his boxers off the floor and pulling them on.

She didn't turn.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice still gravelly with sleep. He crossed the room to her and rested a hand on her shoulder.

Ziva spun on her toes so that she was facing him, only an inch between them. Her eyes meeting his were deadly serious.

His breath caught as Tony fought panic. "Ziva?"

She dropped her eyes to his still-bare chest. "Last night was...amazing," she glanced up through her lashes to smirk at him for a moment. "But there are still things we need to discuss before we can jump back into this."

"Okay," Tony said slowly. "Shoot."

Ziva frowned in confusion.

Tony grinned. "It means, go ahead. Just so we're clear, I'd be perfectly happy if you never shot me."

She rolled her eyes, then her features stilled. "I woke up earlier, and I was watching you." She paused and he waited. "And I couldn't help the fact that I was nervous, laying there, that something would go wrong again, that some other thing you have known forever would suddenly come between us." Ziva swallowed hard. "In these last couple weeks, I have lost some trust for you."

It was almost worse than if she'd shot him. "Do you want me to leave?" Tony asked, dread in his voice. "Do you not want to do this anymore?"

Ziva hesitated but shook her head slowly. "No. This is what I want. But Tony, if you ever, ever do that to me again, we will be over. There will be no more starting again or ignoring our past."

He relaxed slightly at her words. "I can live with that." Tony leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. "I plan to earn your trust, Ziva."

She smiled widely, and he kissed the corner of her mouth. Ziva turned her head to capture his lips and they swayed together, leaning into each other.

Then Ziva gasped.

Tony pulled back to see her face, but found pain there instead of pleasure. "Ziva?" he asked, concerned.

She flinched, gently pulled his hand from her hip. In the space between her pajama bottoms and tank top, he could see purplish bruises.

"Did I do that last night?" Tony asked urgently.

Ziva closed her eyes. "No. Damon--"

Tony ground his teeth.

She looked up hesitantly. "I did not realize until that night how necessary you have become to me."

He nodded slowly. "The rules are back in effect now, though, right?"

"They are." Ziva smiled, then grabbed his hand and tugged Tony toward the kitchen. "Would you like some coffee? I put the pot on."

Tony accepted readily and watched as she poured the milk and sugar into his, then glanced around the apartment. It had come to seem almost like his second home; his college sweatshirt hung on hook near the door and his spare cellphone charger sat on Ziva's endtable beside her own. He tensed. A picture of them with Gibbs and McGee sat on the mantle. The pain of the night before came flooding back.

"How the hell do we go back to work on Monday?" he asked softly.

Ziva glanced where he was looking and joined him, handing him his coffee. "We are both good at pretending not to care what our fathers think or do," she said, a trace of irony in her voice.

Tony frowned. "This is different." He turned to look at Ziva. "What kind of leader breaks all the rules, shuts everyone else out--" He swallowed hard. "I could have my own team if I wanted it. I've always thought I could do more as his second in command than anywhere else. But if this is the kind of man he is..."

Ziva's eyes were wide. She shook her head slowly. "I do not know what the answer to that is, Tony. But as upset as I was last night," she swallowed hard, "when I told him he was the same as my father," Ziva nodded as she heard Tony's breath catch in shock, "I do not really believe that. He has a sense of justice that does not match exactly the laws of your country, but his ideals themselves do not offend me. And I believe that he loves us in a way I never quite believed my father." She flinched with the last admission, reassured by the way Tony nodded agreement.

"Fine," Tony said softly. "But I'm not sure where that leaves things."

Ziva smiled crookedly. "Do you remember when we were trapped in that shipping container? When you asked me how I first realized that my father was not perfect?"

Tony snorted. "If I knew how deep those issues ran I'd have known better than to risk you injuring me in some way."

She grinned for a moment, then sobered. "We all have that moment with our parents. It is a wonder it took so long to see Gibbs as a man and not as a hero. So...I do not know how this will get resolved, and I expect it will take a while. But I do not think you should consider leaving until you have given it some time."

"Alright," Tony sighed. He sipped his coffee. It was just right.

The phone rang and Ziva turned to answer it.

"Hello?" her voice rang out through the apartment.

Tony drank in the curve of her neck as she tilted her head to listen. He saw the moment her entire body tensed.

Ziva spun, looking toward him with wide eyes. "Shalom," she whispered into the phone.


	7. Shalom

**Making Mistakes**

Well, I have really no excuse for the delay except that my life has been crazy and in the absence of new episodes I haven't really felt motivated! But your death threats have been at least marginally effective -- here's a new chapter! My writing muscles have begun to atrophy, so I hope you still like it :)

* * *

_The phone rang and Ziva turned to answer it._

_ "Hello?" her voice rang out through the apartment._

_ Tony drank in the curve of her neck as she tilted her head to listen. He saw the moment her entire body tensed._

_ Ziva spun, looking toward him with wide eyes. "Shalom," she whispered into the phone._

Tony watched her face as she listened. He couldn't make out the words of the speaker, but he knew that voice. Even muffled, even in agitated Hebrew. It was Eli David. Tony fought the urge to snatch the phone out of Ziva's hand, leaning forward unconsciously. She shook her head slightly. He took a deep breath, forcing himself calm, and reached out a hand. Ziva squeezed it, smiling tightly in gratitude. And then she began.

"Abba," Ziva cut in, her voice commanding. She held Tony's gaze as she spoke, saying words he didn't understand in a tone that couldn't be clearer. Firm, serious, demanding. Absolutely emotionless. The voice from the other end of the line tried to interrupt but Ziva continued, unyielding. When she finally stopped, there was no answer but silence.

Ziva squeezed her eyes shut. Tony could see the wavering in her face, the regret that her life had come to a point where she had to speak like this to her father. He could see her grief that that her father had no answer, no apology. "Shalom," she said again, still without affect.

At long last a murmur came over the line, and Ziva hung up.

Ziva forced herself to take a deep breath, and then another. Tony's hands settled on her shoulders, his eyes asking frantically what had just happened. Ziva looked up. She took another breath. "These past few weeks, while you and I..." She trailed off. "I have been meeting with Gibbs and Vance, trying to get my citizenship expedited, trying to discover my father's purpose."

"And that was him." It wasn't a question.

Ziva nodded. Her eyes dropped to his collarbone. "Harper and I have been talking, among other things, about what I would say to him if I could. And so I finally did." She looked up into Tony's eyes and he read the devastation that always filled her when she spoke of her father. "I suppose talking to Gibbs last night was good practice," she said, forcing levity.

Tony pulled her down onto the couch, wrapping his arms around her. "What did you say?"

Her lips quirked, and then she began. "He was yelling at me for taking secrets outside our family, demanding to know if the Americans were controlling me, if my citizenship application was my own doing of theirs." Ziva took a deep breath. "I told him that when I was a child, he chose who I would become and that is the duty of any parent. But I am no longer a child and if he would willingly send me to die, he is no longer my parent. His approval is not something I would ever want, nor is his love." She squeezed her eyes closed and Tony sighed deeply, remembering how even after all of his conflict with his father a few words of love and approval, true or not, had meant everything. Ziva opened her eyes. "I said that I have a new family here, and I have no desire to ever return to his."

Tony hugged her against him. Ziva clung in a way he could never remember her doing so before. He held her back just as tightly, nuzzling his nose into her hair when it tickled at him.

After several minutes, she began to draw away and Tony spoke. "Do you think he'll let it go now? Let you go?"

Ziva shrugged slowly. "I am not sure. I thought he would yell, would protest." She frowned, then shook her head at herself ruefully. "I still don't want to have hurt him too badly."

Tony leaned forward to kiss her forehead. "You're a much better person than he is."

She chuckled. "Thank you." Ziva tilted her head back to meet his lips in a long kiss. When they broke apart, she smiled slightly. "I have been wanting so badly to talk to you about this."

Tony winced. "I'm sorry you couldn't."

Ziva shrugged and curled against him. "We are here again now."

He stroked a finger lazily from her shoulder down to her fingertips, delighting in Ziva's shiver. Then he stopped abruptly. "My father is a hapless con-man, yours is a malicious hit-man, and Gibbs, who we thought could take their places turns out to be a lawless law-man."

She twisted to see his face, waiting for the rest.

"So what do we do?" Tony asked softly.

Ziva shrugged helplessly. "We become grown-ups and take care of ourselves, and each other." She leaned into kiss Tony slowly and then with increasing hunger, resting her weight on his chest until he eased down on his back on the couch so she could lay on top of him. Ziva released his lips, breathless, for one last word before the seriousness of the moment was lost. "That is what I want, Tony," she said firmly. "If you still want forever, too."

Tony reached up to weave his fingers through her hair as it fell down over him. He smiled, all the pain forgotten. She would be his new family. "I love you," he whispered, and pulled her down to him.


End file.
